


Is that a gun in your bed, or are you just happy to see me?

by whichstiel



Series: Season 12 Codas [20]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel, Bottom!Cas, Episode Tag, M/M, Not a healthy relationship, Really messed up dynamics, Season/Series 12, Sex, The Future, episode coda, feelings are hard, heyyyyo, other things are hard too, spn 12x19, the mix tape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 01:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10754082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel
Summary: Emotions are hard and so are other things.





	Is that a gun in your bed, or are you just happy to see me?

“I need a beer,” Dean growls as he pushes past Castiel, who feels his rage slicing like a dull blade across his chest. He knew it would be like this but still, it hurts to see Dean so angry. He's lucky, he knows, that Dean is willing to forgive him. _This time._ Castiel closes his eyes and takes one deep steadying breath and then another, trying to find the cool, blue pool of calm that is so elusive these days.

Hands suddenly slide across his shoulders and push into his coat, knuckles knocking at the cassette tape secreted in his inner pocket. Dean's lips are on his neck. “Scratch that,” Dean whispers in his ear, “I need this more.”

Castiel inhales sharply. “Dean.” Unwittingly he rolls his head back to rest on Dean's warm shoulder, arching his neck to bare more skin to Dean's soft lips and sharp, nipping teeth. “Dean, I thought you were--”

Dean nibbles along a sharp line of muscle and ends with a probing lick just behind Castiel's ear. “I'm fucking pissed,” Dean whispers. “That don't mean I don't want this.” His teeth catch on Castiel's earlobe and his hot breath enflames Castiel.

Castiel moans and Dean presses along his back as though that's all the invitation he needs. His whole body pushes against Castiel, who sways like a tree in a windstorm. “Dean, we-- You--” They shouldn't. They really shouldn't do this. Not with the mission hanging over Castiel's head. Dean's hands wander over Castiel's chest, mouth busy writing poems between his collar and jaw, and then one hand pushes down, down, down. Dean's fingers slide beneath Castiel's belt and the shock of it runs through Castiel's body like crawling lightning. _I'll never get used to this._

“You can't tell me you don't need this too,” Dean says, sliding his other hand down Castiel's body. His voice teases, every inch the practiced seducer. But thoughts roll just under the surface, nearly as visceral as prayer. _I missed you. I need you. Please. Please stay with me._ Castiel rolls his eyes heavenward, as though that's ever been any help. He doesn't deserve this. But yes, he does need it. He slips around in Dean's arms, reaches out one of his hands to push the door shut, and then pushes back. Dean's back hits the door with a dull thud and he moans just from anticipation. Castiel looks at him for one bare moment, drowning in the flowage of emotion rolling from Dean. Then he shuts it down. Shuts everything down except for the static in his skin and the desire burning at his core.

Castiel takes.

Dean opens his mouth willingly under Castiel's abrupt onslaught and he slumps and turns a little, slotting one leg between Castiel's own so they can push against each other. The friction is intoxicating and Castiel loses himself for a moment, grinding against Dean, with Dean, tongues dancing a complicated tango. He curls his hands into Dean's shirt and pulls up and away. Shirts are infuriating things. Castiel brushes his flannel from his shoulders, rips it away, and pulls Dean's t-shirt up. Then he presses in again, placing careful, hard kisses along Dean's collarbone. For a moment Dean grips him tight, sliding his body so Castiel's buttoned shirt catches on his skin. Then he pushes back, making a play for Castiel's coat. Castiel steps back, drops the coat, unbuttons his shirt as swiftly as he possibly can, and reaches for his tie. Dean grabs his tie and tugs once, hard. Then he flips Castiel's collar up and slides it away from the tie. “Leave the tie on,” he says. His gaze, so steely just minutes ago, has softened and Castiel nods, breathless. Dean's mouth curls into a wicked smile and he wraps his fingers in Castiel's tie while Castiel shucks his shirt onto the floor.

“Bed?” Castiel asks, brows lifting, spirits lifting. He tries to smile cooly, but suspects that it emerges as more of ecstatic grin.

Dean grins in kind. “Bed,” he affirms.

Pants, underwear, all but Castiel's tie are shed on the way to the bed. Dean places his hands against Castiel's chest, thumbs rubbing at his nipples, then he pushes very gently and Castiel falls to the mattress. Dean is perfect hunched over a book, or covered in gore, or eating a burger. He's perfect standing above Castiel, too. Dean's soul rolls across his skin like the northern lights and Castiel thinks that's a sight he could distill and drink for a million years and never feel thirst for anything else. Dean climbs onto the bed one knee at a time until he's straddling Cas. His cock is full and his face wears such a look of naked hunger, Castiel can't bear it. He grabs Dean by the biceps and pulls him down so he can roll his own aching cock into Dean's abdomen. “Dean,” he groans, rolling his hips and running his hands over Dean's shoulders, sliding his fingers along his undulating spine.

“Cas,” Dean pants, his lips at his ear again. Dean shuffles backwards so their cocks can push together. “Want you, Cas. Can I--?”

Castiel pants in reply and Dean's warmth leaves him for a just a moment as he rolls towards the desk by his bed. It's almost enough time for Castiel's sense to return to him. Almost. Dean rolls back, slides a knee between Castiel's legs to nudge them apart. And then he brushes his finger from the tip of Castiel's cock to circle his balls, before trickling down between his legs. Dean's finger pushes against Castiel's hole and Castiel arches up with a sharp cry, pulling his knees up onto the bed.

Dean grins and he runs his other hand lovingly down Castiel's chest and up one of his legs. He pauses at the knee and pushes. “Back.” Obediently Castiel scoots back so his head lies near the pillow and Dean can fully kneel on the bed. Then there's the cool touch of lube and the warm length of one, then two, then three fingers. Castiel keens on the bed as time leaves him.

Finally, finally, Dean licks at Castiel's tortured nipple and nudges his hip. “Roll over.”

Castiel rolls over because this is easy. _Easy._

Dean rakes his hands from Castiel's shoulders, down his long back, and to his hips where he grips them, tight. “Good,” he grunts, then pushes in.

Castiel cries out, he thinks. Or Dean does. Dean settles into Castiel until his balls rest against Castiel's ass, then he folds himself down Castiel's back. “So good,” he says, and his voice breaks.

Castiel keens because words are difficult sometimes. He pushes back into Dean, who takes the hint and begins with a slow press and glide. Castiel's cock brushes the bedspread and an incoherent whine slips past his lips again. Dean reaches forward, sliding his fingers along Castiel's throat until he has hold of his tie. Slowly he gathers it up in his fist, pulling it back until it tightens along Castiel's skin. It's barely enough pressure to register on a man, much less an angel, but it feels like a brand wrapped around Castiel, tying him to Dean. He moans in encouragement, and that's all Dean needs to snap his hips into a tight rhythm.

They lose themselves.

Castiel's orgasm takes him by surprise, as it always does and he plummets into it, barely aware of Dean's stuttering pace as he pulses into him. Dean drops his forehead onto Castiel's back breathing hard against his skin before pressing his lips to him. "S'good?" he asks quietly. 

"Yes," Castiel replies. There are no words.

There's no time to hold each other. Sam's in the library and they've been gone too long. Dean grins at him like a boy fresh from a carnival ride and he pulls on his clothes quickly before kissing Castiel, sharp and short. “See you out there.” Then he drops one more smile at Castiel's feet and bolts from the room.

Castiel gets dressed more slowly, carefully slipping his tie back around his collar and buttoning it up. Pulling up and fastening pants. Buttoning his shirt. Pulling his coat from the floor and slipping it on. He breathes deeply, skin still burning from the contact high. Then he looks at the pillow he was pressed against. He looks at the pillow for a long time. And then he slips his hand under it and pulls out the Colt, shoving it into his inner coat pocket opposite Dean's mix tape.

Castiel leaves the bunker, self-loathing threatening to swallow him whole, with the smell of Dean hanging thick around him.

**Author's Note:**

> Written in an hour. Hopefully no typos or...sex-tos? Icymi, here's a [prequel on Tumblr](https://whichstiel.tumblr.com/post/160045455090/12x19-promo-ficlet) based on the episode promo. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/whichstiel) and [Tumblr](http://whichstiel.tumblr.com/) @ whichstiel. You may also like the Supernatural recap and gif blog I co-write/curate, [Shirtless Sammy](https://shirtlesssammy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
